


Goodnight, Sweet Prince

by bibliotaphist



Category: Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons), Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro
Genre: M/M, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:08:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bibliotaphist/pseuds/bibliotaphist
Summary: Then, Dictatious felt a hand creep onto his hip. Peering over his shoulder, he feigned confusion. “Sire?” Gunmar pulled him from the edge of the bed with one arm, till his back was flush against the dark, broad chest. “Tonight?”





	Goodnight, Sweet Prince

Dictatious rolled over, one arm thrown groggily over his eyes. Beside him, Gunmar snored heartily, his huge bulk blending into the blanketing darkness of the cave. His other three arms crossed over his chest, Dictatious lay on his back, blinking up at the ceiling. Gradually his eyes drifted shut, and he lay still for a long moment, trying to keep his breaths even, willing himself to drift off. So tired… surely any minute now he would- 

His fists slammed onto the bed. Sitting upright, he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. All six burned with exhaustion. Here in this relentless darkness, sleep teased him in a way he had never suffered in the world of sunlight. He let himself flop backwards. Things couldn’t continue like this; his mind, his beautiful, febrile mind, felt like the inside of a Nyarlagroths’ egg. That is, disgusting and very yolky. 

Beside him, Gunmar’s snoring hitched, and the huge lump shifted. Dictatious froze. When the snoring resumed, he sighed, eyes drifting back to the ceiling. A hideous problem, this; what use was he to his Underlord when his greatest asset was frayed and worn? 

So lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice Gunmar grunting softly, or the single eye slitting open. Dictatious nearly leaped clear of the bed when he was prodded by a huge clawed hand. “My lord!” His yelp reverberated off the damp rock walls. Gunmar waved grumpily at him. Softly, Dictatious repeated “My lord.” 

“Why are you still awake.” The voice was groggy, but not especially grouchy. 

“Simply lost in thought, my lord.” Dictatious lay down stiffly on his side, avoiding Gunmar’s gaze. 

The silence stretched, and Dictatious almost thought Gunmar’d fallen back to sleep. He chanced a glance over, but the bright eye still glowed at him through the darkness. “You haven’t slept in days.” Gunmar rumbled. 

Aside from how Gunmar knew that when he slept like a stone, Dictatious wondered why he minded. “Alas,” he said airily, “it is the curse of intellect.” Gunmar grunted, but offered nothing else. 

Then, Dictatious felt a hand creep onto his hip. Peering over his shoulder, he feigned confusion. “Sire?” Gunmar pulled him from the edge of the bed with one arm, till his back was flush against the dark, broad chest. “Tonight?” Dictatious struggled to keep the eagerness from his voice. Another grunt, and a clawed hand skirted over his chest, sliding down his belly to the waist of his trousers. A finger plucked promptingly at the button, and Dictatious scrambled to loosen it. The hand helped him shove the garment out of the way, till he managed to kick them off one leg. 

Apparently, that was enough waiting for Gunmar. His hand crept lower as Dictatious fussed over his clothes. The first brush was enough to distract Dictatious into a soft croon. Clawed fingers moved carefully, brushing past the hardening cock to the slit beneath, already dampening at the touch. Had Dictatious not known Gunmar before, the delicacy of his movements would have surprised him. As it was, he just sighed when the fingers spread him, dipping and teasing, easing the wetness out of him. 

His hands joined Gunmar’s, fisting his cock as Gunmar palmed him, grinding the heel of his hand into the sensitive flesh. Gasping, Dictatious rolled his hips hard into the grip. Gunmar’s hot breath dampened his neck, a thick, rough tongue lolling out, painting a hot stripe up to the sensitive spot under his ear. 

Whimpering, Dictatious palmed himself, already painfully close. He craned his neck to pant into Gunmar’s mouth. “Sire… please…” 

Gunmar’s hand withdrew immediately, and Dictatious keened at the loss. Gunmar only shushed him, pulling him closer by the hips and rolling the pair of them over, Dictatious sprawling halfway over Gunmar’s belly. The arm not busy between Dictatious’s legs stretched out under his head, the hand loosely curled and relaxed. 

Shooing Dictatious’s hands away, Gunmar coiled his fingers around Dictatious’ ankle, hoisting it up. His own cock, heavy and so far ignored, ground it lazily against Dictatious’ back. Dictatious rutted his hips backwards into it, the column of heat dizzying. 

Gunmar grunted, sliding his cock between Dictatious’ legs, letting it glide wetly against his slit. With a few lazy thrusts, the head caught, and suddenly Gunmar was buried in him to the hilt. Dictatious keened at the stretch, familiar but still overwhelming. 

With a well of patience not usually called upon, Gunmar waited for Dictatious to stop panting, and for the pressure on his cock to ease. “Sire- ngh, ready, please-” 

Gunmar needed no further urging. His hips rolled sharply, and the two groaned in unison. Holding his adviser open, Gunmar’s hips moved at a languid pace, setting a lazy rhythm as they panted together, Dictatious’s voice hitching every few breaths at a particularly sharp thrust. 

Dictatious was taken quite by surprise when he came, the build so slow he’d scarcely noticed it. A sharp cry, a burst of wetness on his belly, and it was finished. He rode out Gunmar’s thrusts with shallow, broken sounds as the warlord chased his pleasure. When Gunmar came, it was deep inside his second, holding Dictatious on his cock until the steady pulses of his spend subsided. 

He whimpered when Gunmar’s cock slid free, along with a rush of his fluids that spilled out along his thigh. Dictatious winced at the feeling. “Eugh-”

Without hesitation, Gunmar snorted and rose onto all fours, spinning Dictatious by the leg. The great horned head lowered, and a hot tongue scraped at the crook of Dictatious’ thigh, cleaning away the mess he’d left behind. Dictatious gasped, back arching and all four hands tangled in the mane growing down Gunmar’s neck. Gunmar was nothing if not thorough, and he lifted Dictatious by the hips to lap away the mess. The cave echoed with his overwhelmed whimpers, his hips twitching in aborted thrusts. The secret smile on Gunmar’s face suggested an ulterior motive to his consideration.

When he was finished, Gunmar rolled lazily onto his back. Dictatious leaned his head against his side, basking in the warmth rolling off the huge troll’s body. Gunmar was snoring again within minutes, and Dictatious wasn’t far behind.


End file.
